


The Ex-Templar & The Forgotten Mage

by KnittingNarwhal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Character, Circle of Magi, Developing Friendships, Dungeon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Eventual Romance, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinloch Hold, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Lake Calenhad, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mystery, POV Alternating, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Dorian Pavus, POV Solas, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rite of Tranquility, Solitary Confinement, Spies & Secret Agents, Strength, Suffering, The Gallows, Tragic Romance, Trauma, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12982695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnittingNarwhal/pseuds/KnittingNarwhal
Summary: Commander Cullen of the Inquisition is keeping himself busy, as always. Though his general well-being has greatly improved throughout the years, there are still unresolved issues that resurface here and there.When Leliana asks Cullen for help with finding an old friend lost in the fade, he unthinkingly refers her to the one person he suspects can perform the task. Cullen is forced to deal with the remorse he experiences from his days in Kirkwall while enduring the discomforts of Lyrium withdrawal.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my *very first* fanfic - my writing skills are very rusty so please, please, please gimme constructive criticism! All suggestions/comments/etc. are welcome :) 
> 
> Not everything may be 100% canon, but I'll try my best to stick as closely as I can to "The Rules". 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pain radiated from the base of Commander Cullen’s skull, throbbing rhythmically, reaching to his temples which he massaged in vain. Normally he welcomed the challenges - both tedious and daunting alike- that were presented to him on a daily basis. He pushed himself past his limits, as he was known to do, and hoped that no one had noticed that this was the case today.

While there wasn’t any kind of headache that was pleasant, _this_ particular one was a stress headache. _A stress headache is far better than a withdrawal headache_ , he had decided, and the Commander of the Inquisition could not afford to be disrupted by any withdrawal symptoms. His eyes slowly slid toward the cabinet where he kept his lyrium, then quickly snapped away. _Time for a walk._

Stepping out of his office, he gave a silent thanks to the Maker that the sun had already set. The lanterns spread across the grounds only added soft slashes of pain to his headache, whereas the sun would not have been nearly as gentle.

He slowly made his way through the courtyard, acknowledging both familiar and unfamiliar faces who stopped briefly in their tracks to offer him a respectful greeting before rushing off. Upbeat music and boisterous laughter poured out of the tavern as the worn and weary filed in past those who finished indulging in revelry stumbled out. It was a warm and cheery contrast to the chill mountain air. Cullen passed the tavern without as much as a glance. Even without the headache he wouldn’t have been in the mood.

Cullen made a quick stop at the stables, then through the overgrown area in which the Inquisitor insisted would one day be a beautiful garden, to the small temple devoted to the prophet Andraste. The candles surrounding the statue of Andraste had burned out. He lowered himself to one knee and replaced the expired candles, arranging each one carefully around the temple. When he was satisfied he looked up at the outstretched arms of Andraste, brought his own hands together, and bowed his head. There he sat in silent reflection, then in quiet prayer. Some people prayed to themselves but Cullen found that speaking the words out loud offered him more comfort. He looked up at Andraste once more before standing up to leave.

Cullen stepped out of the temple, pinching the bridge of his nose, and found himself face to face with Dorian. He was leaned up against the wall, nonchalant as always, and smirking. He was always smirking.

“Rough day, Commander?” Beneath the mocking tone that coated every word Dorian spoke was authentic concern.

Cullen replied with a groan and waved Dorian off.

“Not in the mood, I see. Well, I regret to keep you from your nightly rituals, but you ought to know that a messenger just came running at full speed to see Leliana.”

Cullen stopped, turned, and waited patiently for Dorian to continue.

Dorian stood up straight and leaned in closer “It may or may not have something to do with the mage from Kirkwall you’ve been looking for,” he said softly. “I just thought you’d like to know.”

The short-lived sensation of a peaceful inner confidence was replaced with an unsettling mix of emotions within Cullen. Dread...guilt...apprehension.

Cullen absently brought his hand to the back of his neck and exhaled sharply. His head throbbed with added intensity and he wondered if he should wait for Leliana to give him the news - if there even was any - or if he should take a sleeping draught and give himself a break from the pain.

 

As Cullen debated with himself, Dorian coyly tilted his head to the side to meet Cullen’s faraway gaze. Cullen blinked, as if awoken, and nodded. “Oh. Uh, yes. Yes, very good. Thank you, Dorian.”

 

“Not at all,” Dorian said regally, dipping into a slight bow. As he sauntered off he called over his shoulder, “A pleasant evening to you, Commander. Should you require any assistance, you know where to find me.”

 

Cullen looked up toward Leliana’s tower and sighed. He had to know now, couldn't wait until tomorrow. He pressed his fingertips to his temples and made his way up to her. At least this wasn’t a withdrawal headache.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen hears some news about the person he and Leliana are looking for.

Cullen ignored Varric who was writing by the fireplace in the main hall. “Hey, Curly. Where to? This isn’t part of your usual routine,” he called out with a chuckle.

Cullen made it halfway up to the tower that held Leliana’s rookery when he had to stop and steady himself after a wave of pain rippled through him. It spread out from his core to his entire body, like electricity cutting through flesh. It almost made him forget about the hammering in his head.   

“Ugh, no. Not now,” he groaned in between shallow breaths.

He waited a minute, then two, then decided it was safe to move again. He took the stairs slowly and reached the top without another incident. Cassandra and Leliana were waiting for him.

 

“Good evening, Cassandra. Leliana.” Cullen looked around and saw no one else but one of Leliana’s people tending to the ravens. 

 

“Commander,” Cassandra looked him up and down. Her expression was unreadable, but Cullen suspected that she knew how he was feeling. 

 

Leliana took Cullen by the hand and lead him to her desk. “Sit, Cullen. Your timing is impeccable. I just received word from one of my agents. I was about to send someone out for you.”

 

Cullen froze. “Did you find her?”

 

“No, not yet. But I think we are getting closer.” She looked up at Cullen and he stared back. He didn’t understand the questioning look she was giving him, and returned it with a wince of confusion. Leliana’s lips twitched and she gestured to the chair next to her. “Are you going to sit?”

 

“Oh...yes...right…”

 

From behind him he heard Cassandra snort. Cullen ignored her. 

 

“So, look. Documents have been destroyed, lost, or never completed due to the chaos that has been going on with the Mage Rebellion and whatnot. Anais Dravyyn, the mage you said that might be able to help us, left The Gallows…” Leliana made a face. “The Gallows. What an awful name. Anyway, she left The Gallows just a few days before...well, you know. The Incident.”

 

Cullen nodded as he looked over the report. “Yes. So, The order was to escort her from Kirkwall to...Antiva City?! Huh. Strange.” 

 

“Why is that strange?”

 

“Well, at the time….I vaguely remember someone commenting on how overcrowded the circle was in Antiva. I could be mistaken though. It was some time ago.” Cullen shrugged. “So, of the two Templars that were ordered to take Miss Dravynn out of Kirkwall, one of them is…..oh, look. Not far from here.”

 

“We should pay him a visit, do you think?” Leliana looked up from the report to Cullen. He was rubbing his forehead, his eyes, his temples. She gave him a moment to answer, then said, “Orrrrr….should we invite him to come here? Make him a nice pair of nightclothes and braid each other’s hair while we indulge in sweet cakes and gossip?”

 

Cullen shook his head and sighed impatiently which made Leliana laugh. 

 

“No, like you said...I think we should go to him. Bringing him here will only make it more difficult to keep this a secret.”

 

“What’s that, Commander? Favoring stealth over the intimidation of strength in numbers? I expected you to tell him to come on over and then show him every single person that will personally track him down beat him for exposing this in any way,” Leliana teased. Cullen didn’t seem to hear her. He stared at the report but Leliana could see he wasn’t reading it.   _ Distracted by his thoughts _ , she wondered,  _ or his pain? _

 

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation tomorrow. I am awfully tired.” Leliana stood up. 

 

“Hmm?” Cullen placed the papers down carefully on Leliana's desk, taking time to straighten them out. “Oh...uh...yes. It’s getting late. Thank you, Leliana.”

 

Leliana walked Cullen to the stairway. “I should be thanking you. If this Anais Dravyyn is able to do what you say she can, then she may be able to help us rescue Alistair from the fade.”

 

Cullen nodded solemnly. 

 

“I know what you are thinking. But I know better than to get my hopes up. But...I pray to the Maker that we will be able to at least try to go back for him.”

 

The two bid each other a good night and Cassandra stopped Cullen as he started his descent down the stairs. She crossed her arms and stared at him with her intense gaze. “Are you well?”

 

“Well enough,” he mumbled.

 

“You haven’t been getting enough sleep.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I will.”

 

“Very well. Goodnight, then.” Cullen felt Cassandra’s gaze follow him down the stairs. 

 

Varric was still writing by the fire but much too engrossed in his story to notice Cullen as he walked by this time. There will still people going about the keep, but things were much quieter now than they had been an hour ago. 

 

Back in his office, Cullen looked over his list of tasks for tomorrow. He knew it would change every half hour throughout the day, but he still liked to have the list. He did not allow his eyes to linger long at the cabinet that held his personal supply of lyrium. He directed his focus on taking care of his armor and straightened out the weapons on his stand, making a mental note of reinforcing the locks on his doors so that Sera would stop breaking in and moving his things, as she had tonight. While he was out, all of his weapons had been taken off the stand and then placed back on backwards and reverse order. He knew for a fact Sera was responsible for this. Perhaps even the Inquisitor.

 

He busied himself with a few other mundane tasks and then lay on his bed, staring up at the sky through the hole in the roof. Cullen’s head pounded and a knot in his stomach threatened to send shockwaves of pain within him. He needed to relax. He needed sleep. 

 

Cullen was able to clear his mind as any trained as a Templar would be expected to do. He was able, not without difficulty, to finally relax. He lay, staring, letting thoughts drift past him like willowpod seeds in the wind. Eventually sleep tugged at him, bringing violent dreams of red terror and when he was able to pull himself away, he opened his eyes to a sky that was still dark. 

 

Cullen’s head throbbed lightly. He let out a sigh. 


	3. 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen starts of the day a bit better and opens up (a little bit) to Dorian.

The sun had barely lifted the edges of its rays over the horizon, but the Commander had already said his morning prayer and was at work in his office. In full armor, as usual. despite the nightmares and lack of sleep, he felt considerably more clear-headed than he had in weeks. 

 

He looked over the list of the day’s tasks, grumbling to himself about which ones he’d be willing to delegate. It wasn’t that he didn’t entrust the people that worked for him, but Cullen often felt a reluctant tug from within him at the thought of having less to do for the Inquisition...and more time to himself. Still, these people were here for a reason, and he couldn’t simply give them the bare minimum to do.

 

Jameson, one of the warriors-in-training Cullen found to be most promising, knocked on the door before entering swiftly. “Ser!” he raised his fist to his heart and bowed.

Cullen nodded in response and handed the young man his orders. He took them and stood straight, chest puffed out, arms behind his back. He waited for further commands.

 

Cullen looked the young man up and down. His hair was short, his uniform impeccable. He had the alertness and energy that could only be found in a young man in his early twenties. How he managed to get enough sleep was beyond Cullen. Jameson was always the first to awaken and the last to retire for the evening. Always looking for something to do instead of avoiding the commander’s gaze once his tasks for the day were finished. It wasn’t that Jameson was trying too hard to impress anyone. His comrades teased him, called him a brown-noser. He wasn’t, though. Cullen could tell the man was genuinely passionate about his position.

 

 _Ah, so young and eager._ Cullen suppressed a smile.

 

“Jameson, after you deliver tasks to your fellow team captains you will be leading this morning’s drills. Return to report at the tenth hour.”

 

“Yes, commander!” Jameson’s face remained still but his eyes gave away his pride and excitement. Cullen watched as Jameson left, wondering what would happen to the lad when one day the excitement that filled him was replaced with disenchantment. It was inevitable, he thought sadly.

 

As he let his mind wander, Cullen found himself staring at the locked lyrium cabinet. He drew his attention back to his tasks, shaking his head.

 

***

In place of overseeing the morning drills, Commander Cullen met with Dorian for breakfast and chess. The two chatted for a bit about nothing in particular and made it through four games before Dorian started complaining of losing.

 

Cullen grinned. “If you’d stop cheating and started strategizing,  maybe you’d make these games last a bit longer.”

 

“Whaaat? Me?! Cheat?!” Dorian’s voice bellowed. “I would do no such thing, Commander! Perhaps we are playing by a different set of rules. An error of miscommunication, yes?”

 

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Call it what you want.”

 

Dorian, with the ever-present smirk on his face, examined Cullen as he reset the board. “I can’t help but notice how bright-eyed you are today. And not clutching at your head like it is about to explode. Feeling better, are we?”

 

Cullen hesitated before answering. “Much better than yesterday, thank you.”

 

“And the last week or two or three. I was beginning to wonder if you’d stop by here every again or if you’d be too busy being busy….with whatever it is you do when you don’t want to think about things.”

 

Cullen kept his head down and took time to arrange the board. He knew Dorian wouldn't want Cullen to feel guilty, but he did anyway. A little. For some time the two played games daily, or at least took the time to banter. Sometimes Dorian even managed to drag the stiff and cranky Commander to the tavern for a drink. But the past few weeks had been rough. Something roiled within Cullen. Anger? No, it was discomfort. Did he regret opening up to Dorian last week? He wasn’t sure until he glanced up and saw that Dorian’s expression had softened from jeering amusement to a seriousness that, because it was so rare, meant a great deal.  

 

“I….uh….well…” Cullen closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Yes, you’re right. With everything that has been going on - and on top of all that the tension between Varric and Cassandra, the red templars, Hawke and the Inquisitor wallowing in guilt about The Hero of Ferelden being left behind in the fade....” Cullen trailed off.

 

Dorian nodded. “But you said you may have a way to help this Alistair fellow, no?”

 

“Oh, sure. A pretty pathetic long-shot. But….yes.”

 

Dorian noticed that Cullen was beginning to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He moved from one stiff position to another, blinking nervously.

 

“All you’ve told me is that you knew a mage in Kirkwall who could physically travel to the fade.” Dorian pressed. “That seems less daunting as you describe.”

 

“Dorian --” Cullen warned.

 

“Of course,” Dorian leaned back and glanced around indifferently, though he silently cursed at himself for souring Cullen's mood. “You wish not to speak of it. But despite what you southern barbarians think you know of us Tevinter mages, we do not have the ability to read minds. And therefore, are unable to assist in personal resolutions. Pity, isn’t it?”

Cullen stood up, glowering, and Dorian knew he’d pushed too far, too quickly. It didn’t take much to get his friend to put his walls up and resort to aversion. But then, much to Dorian’s surprise, Cullen said, “Walk with me.”

 

***

Cullen lead Dorian to a secluded area of the battlements. He shooed away the man who was on patrol, telling him to take fifteen. The man didn’t need to be told twice.

 

Dorian admired the mountains from this view and gave Cullen a sideway glance. “My, how romantic, Commander!” Much to Dorian’s delight, Cullen actually chuckled. His face quickly grew serious though, and the pained expression that replaced the brief smile made Dorian’s heart sink.

 

“Dorian. You know what happened at Kinloch Hold....and you know part of what happened at Kirkwall.”

 

Dorian nodded. “Yes,” he said softly.

 

Cullen paused, drew in a deep breath that escaped shuddering. 

“You don’t know what kind of person I was in Kirkwall. I was…..I did things that….I was not the person that I am today.”

 

Dorian’s heart sank deeper with. Cullen had told him all about being tortured at the Ferelden Circle. He probably would never have opened up on the matter had Dorian not stumbled upon a panic-stricken Cullen experiencing a violent flashback.

The incident occurred a few weeks ago. Dorian had been wandering about Skyhold, musing over the architecture and satiating his curiosity. He had not expected to find the Commander in the dungeons, clutching his head in between his hands, screaming at the walls. The memory made Dorian grimace. He turned his head and acted like he was casually taking in the scenery. He did not want Cullen to see.

“Cullen, after what you’d been through, it would have been odd for you to feel and behave any differently.”

 

“No!” Cullen snapped. “It’s unforgivable. The way I treated mages……. _people_ …”

 

He did that often, Dorian noted. The Commander held himself to such a high standard. He was so hard on himself. Dorian refrained from spouting out philosophical bits about how people must descend in character in order to ascend from it. He’d save it for another time.

 

“All right,” Dorian said gently. “So....this mage...Anais. What of her? If you think this is a bad idea, then it is probably a bad idea.”

 

That was the wrong thing to say. Dorian could tell that the conversation was quickly coming to an end. Cullen was shifting his weight back and forth between each leg and looking around impatiently. “You don't understand. The look on Leliana's face when she heard the news about Alistair. Oh, Maker, I wanted to do anything to make that pain go away. And I stupidly blurted out that, 'Why, yes! I just happen to know of someone who can physically enter the fade.' I should not have, Dorian. I should have waited, thought on it, slept on it. Hawke...and the Inquisitor...they hold on to hope that Alistair is alive in the Fade. I am not as optimistic as they are.  But....I cannot....I’m not….” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “I did Anais a great injustice. And I fear that even mentioning her to the others has filled them with a false hope. I don’t know - if she’s even alive -  if she will be capable to do what we need. Maker knows she won't be willing. But...I knew the Hero. Alistair. He helped me...I...I owe him at least the attempt.”

 

 _He's all over the place_ , Dorian filled with regret. _I hope I didn't_   _do wrong by encouraging him to speak of this._ “That is...quite the dilemma, Commander.”

 

Cullen met Dorian’s eyes. “Please excuse me, Dorian. I have business to attend to,” he muttered softly.

 

Dorian watched quietly as his friend walked away. He desperately wanted to stop Cullen and....and what? Nothing. There was nothing he could do or say. Though maybe that is precisely what Cullen needs and why he confided in Dorian not twice now but three times. Perhaps Dorian was doing something right. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you'd like to read about the incident in which Dorian found Cullen in the dungeon. I'd be happy to share if you're interested!
> 
> Also, don't be shy to let me know if there's a lack of clarity or flow within the story (I have trouble with both, disorganized thoughts and all) or if you think I haven't found the right voice for a specific character, the descriptions are bland or they're overused, etc. etc. let me know! 
> 
> Even if you have no constructive crit in particular, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Flashback Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Dorian and Lavellan have formed a special bond which Dorian treasures deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> So, I'm putting this here as a flashback for now. I may go back and re-order things unless the flashback(s) happen to work out just fine. 
> 
> I also changed the POV because for the moment, I CAN'T STOP WRITING!  
> It is yet to be determined if this is a good thing or not :)
> 
> Have any input on the matter? Let me know!  
> Enjoy!

Three Weeks Ago...Part 1

Dorian found Ferelden to be an interesting place. True, the food was bland, the architecture cloddish, and the arid held a faint odor that was more odd than it was offensive. The icy mountain air of the Frostback Mountains was a vast improvement from the musty smells of the countryside, yet still had the slightest hint of wet dog just as a town miles from the sea will catch a salty breeze from time to time. Regardless, it was all interesting and Dorian was enjoying the experiences of traveling abroad. The positive aspects were almost good enough to cancel out the pesky hole in the sky and the deranged magister that wanted to take over the world. Other than that, and a slight case of homesickness, Dorian was content enough.

It did not take long for him to grow accustomed to the sideways glances and whispers. If the fine folk of Ferelden couldn't tell that Dorian was Tevinter just by his appearance, chances are they had been living under a rock for many years. But people could tell and did they talk. Fereldans were slightly more discreet about it than Tevinters were. Here, no one wants you to know they're talking about you. Back in Tevinter, not only do they want you know but they will confront you to draw a response if you ignored their derogatory statements to you and yours. Charming, that.

No, Dorian was well accustomed to standing out and being treated like the persona non grata that he was. Having mentally prepared himself beforehand and experienced scrutiny by his community in the Imperium, Dorian was well equipped to deal with any resentment and ignorance that came his way. He hadn't, however, expected to be able to effortlessly form profound relationships with some of the most amazing people he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. That caught him completely by surprise.

***  
Lavellan appeared out of nowhere as she often did, zipping this way and that as silently and stealthily as a cat.

"I have a surprise for you, Dorian!" The excitement in her voice rang like wind chimes.

Dorian couldn't help but smile. He put down his book and before him stood Asha'na Lavellan, covered in dirt and what looked like wispy white strands of cloud.

"My dear Lavellan, are you aware you have spider thread in your hair?" He reached out to brush some of the dirt off her shoulder. "Just were have you been creeping around? We need to put a bell on you."

Lavellan took his hand off her shoulder and into both of hers. "I do NOT creep! I.....sneak about. There is a difference, you know."

"Oh, yes," he agreed gravely. "Listen, if you've found another kitten hidden away in a pile of rubble..."

"No, no, nothing like that. Something better!" She pulled him down the stairs, across the main call, and to the antechamber that lead to Josephine's office.

 

"Look!" Lavellan breathed excitedly. She pointed to a stone wall.

Dorian looked at it, then lifted his nose and peered down at the excited elf through the corner of his eye. "A wall. And a rather strong one at that. Well done! I KNEW they'd made you leader of the Inquisition for a reason!"

Lavellan's laughter tickled Dorian. Most people didn't understand his sense of humor and took offense to sarcasm. It was a cultural thing, Dorian knew. In Tevinter, you were playfully abrasive to your closest friends and exquisitely polite to acquaintances and enemies. It was similar to how Fereldens sought joy in gently teasing and humilating their friends in public. It was endearing when fully understood. Whether Lavellan got it because she was Dalish or simply because she was, well, the one and only Lavellan, Dorian wasn't sure. True friends in Tevinter talked down to each other. Lavellan was a good sport.

She leaned in and gave Dorian a smile that warmed his heart....and raised suspicion within him. For that smile had mischief around the edges. "Look," she whispered, and she gave the wall a push. It slid open to a steep set of stairs.

"Oh, no. I can see where this is going." Dorian lifted his chin in defiance. "If there are spiders down there, I am not going!"

"Come on!" Lavellan insisted, pushing him through first and quietly securing the door behind her. She gave him another nudge and coaxed him down the stairs.

"These aren't the dungeons, are they?"

"Mmmaybe," Lavellan said casually.

"Look, I hope you have leather restraints down here because I do not look good in iron chains."

When they reached the bottom, Lavellan brought Dorian to a heavy wooden door with ornate hinges. She smiled brightly as the door opened to a small, but well-stocked private library.  
Dusty volumes filled the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases. An antique desk with a beautifully and well-made chair , perhaps from the Anderfels, was covered in thick layers of spider thread. Dorian looked at Lavellan's hair and wrinkled his nose. "What did you do? Roll around in the spider silk?"

Lavellan, still grinning, replied with a shrug.

Dorian gently brushed his fingers across the textbooks and gave the room another look. He closed his eyes and breathed in the musty smell of old books. He exhaled and met Lavellan's eyes. "Lavellan, this is marvelous!" he gestured grandly.

"Don't tell anyone." Her broad smile was infectious. "This is something for only you and I to share." This was a side of the Inquisitor Dorian rarely got to see. She almost always was able to maintain some level of playfulness, but were times more often than not when her lips were set in a straight line and her brows knit so closely together they'd begun to form permanent lines. And when she was in pain....Dorian pushed the thought out of his mind. Right now, right at this moment, this woman forgot that she was The Inquisitor and was simply Asha'na Lavellan. His friend. Who had just given him a gift. 

Lavellan looked up at Dorian and tilted her head to the side. His smile had slowly faded and he placed a hand gently on her cheek.

She held her hand over his. Puzzlement came over her. "Are you all right, _vhenan_?"

Dorian's heart fluttered. He did not know the meaning of the word, but he imagined that it was a term of endearment. It warmed him from the inside and nearly brought tears to his eyes.

"Yes, of course." He whispered shakily. He cleared his throat and said more steadily, "I love this. Thank you for sharing this with me. It means the world to me, as do you." He drew her in for a hug and the two stood motionless.

"Go on," Lavellan gestured to one of the bookcases. "Take a look."

Dorian held Lavellan close in one arm and reached out for a book with golden etched binding and a forest green spine. He twisted his face in disappointment and rolled his eyes theatrically.

"Really, Lavellan?! Another library dedicated to the riveting works of Brother Genetivi. This is an outrage!"

The mischievous grin on Lavellan's face was broken by an outburst of laughter that echoed off the stone walls.

Dorian pushed Lavellan away. "Begone, you evil creature." 

 

He took a quick peek at some of the other titles and nodded approvingly. "I suppose I shall return at a later time, should I need assistance from these books in boring myself to sleep."  

Lavellan, satisfied, slipped her arm around his and the two made their way out of the secret library.   


	5. Flashback Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback in Dorian's POV, exploring his relationship with Lavellan and Cullen's struggle with Lyrium addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> So, here's Part 2 of 3 of the flashback in Dorian's POV, leading to where the first chapter of this fic began. 
> 
> Enjoy! And, as always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated :)

Three Weeks Ago...Part 2

 

Asha'na Lavellan and Dorian Pavus walked arm-in-arm across the Skyhold courtyard. Dorian's heart felt lighter than it ever had since his arrival in Ferelden, and he wondered idly how he became fortunate enough to find such genuine and exceptional....dare he say it? Friends. 

  
  


"Will you be joining me for dinner this eve, my dear Inquisitor?"

 

"Not tonight, Dorian, thank you. I'll retiring early this evening."

 

"Shirking on your duties? Attagirl, Lavellan! Show them how it is done."

 

"I am not! Cassandra encouraged me to take the night off. I put up as much of a fight as the commander did but we both lost."

 

"A night off? That is not allowed! Is it? What kind of Inquisition is this?!" Dorian shook his fist and looked around accusingly. He caused a few newcomers to Skyhold, refugees he guessed, to stop whatever they were doing and stare. It wouldn’t take long for them to grow accustomed to the random outbursts from the strange Tevinter man who often followed the Inquisitor around. Lavellan gave him a shove and a mock look of warning. 

 

"It certainly feels odd. And there are so many things I would love to do with my free time,  _ especially _ spending it with a tall..."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Handsome..."

 

"Go on."

 

"No, wait. Make that  _ strikingly _ handsome..."

 

"Even better!"

 

"Incredibly talented gentleman...."

 

"Mmhmm." 

"Oh, and also with you, Dorian!" 

 

Dorian feigned grief. "Oh, you wound me, my lady!"

 

"But, really. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks."

 

Dorian leaned in. "Well, Inquisitor. That is probably because you have not slept in weeks. So, fair enough! May I escort you to your chambers?" She accepted the offer with a smile. Dorian and Lavellan chatted lightly as they walked through the main hall. They passed the odd Dwarf who shared a story to a small audience about the Champion of Kirkwall. The strange spirit boy who insisted on wearing the hideous hat stood awkwardly a few feet away - what was his name? A few people Dorian didn't recognize said hello to the Inquisitor and outright ignored Dorian. Vivienne and Josephine stepped out of the Lady Ambassador's office, and Dorian returned Vivienne's icy sideways glance with a warm and charming grin. 

 

As they reached the door to the Inquisitor's private chambers, Dorian brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "Thank you again for the lovely surprise." 

 

Lavellan bowed her head and unlocked the door. "Goodnight, Dorian." She said sweetly. Then, "May Genitivi's books bring you much joy." Dorian chuckled as her mocking smile disappeared behind the door. 

 

***

Dorian asked around for the Commander's whereabouts, but no one knew where he was. 

 

"He took the day off," Cassandra stood outside Andraste’s temple with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Perhaps he has retired for the evening. It is best that you do not disturb him"

 

Leliana, who Dorian was certain knew everyone's location at all hours, looked up from her chessboard. “I haven’t seen him. He often seeks quiet time alone. He enjoys what he does but values his times of solitude.” 

Across the board from Leliana sat Josephine who shook her head apologetically. 

 

The odd Dwarf that spoke very often...out loud...and in public to his crossbow, with ale in hand, shrugged. “Beats me. But Curly does that from time to time. He goes off every now and then. He’ll turn up eventually.” He looked around Dorian’s shoulder and waved someone over. “And just so you don’t learn the hard way like I did, when the Commander wants to be alone, he  _ means _ it.” 

 

Dorian curiously peered into the mug. “Where is that from?”

 

“Uhh...Denerim, I think. Care to join us?”

 

Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Pity. No, I am afraid I must be on my way,” he said loudly and with great importance in his voice. “But thank you...erm...Beardless Dwarf! Another time, perhaps.”

 

The dwarf grinned and winked. “Sure thing, Sparkler.”

  
  
  


Dorian sighed with disappointment. Though he barely knew the Commander, Dorian had been invited on a few occasions to share a meal with him and Lavellan. The three engaged in fantastic conversations about travel, culture, and history, sometimes over wine. Terrible wine, unfortunately. The company certainly made up for it though.

 

Beneath Dorian’s strong and confident exterior, he was a bit intimidated by the commander at first. Not because he was once a Templar, but because he was once a  _ southern _ Templar. Much different than the Templar’s in the Imperium. Dorian had heard many stories of the southern Order and expected to be met in Ferelden with scorn. 

 

Oh, well, he had received some despisal. But not from the Commander of the Inquisition. Oh, no. He was polite, respectful, and surprisingly approachable. He was a serious man - serious being a massive understatement - but not at all standoffish. At least, not when he was in the company of the Inquisitor. 

He would ignore the lighthearted quips that Dorian and Lavellan exchanged and groan when the conversation became overrun by playful innuendos, yet he seemed to genuinely enjoy himself, engaging in conversation and showing much interest in Dorian’s opinions on a variety of topics. 

 

The Commander’s demeanor altered, Dorian noted, when Lavellan was around. He was still pretty serious - Dorian doubted anyone would ever change that. But he was visibly relaxed and seemed comfortable to allow himself to forget his burdens around him. You could see it in his eyes. Additionally, Lavellan could successfully, and effortlessly, manage to get the Commander to laugh out loud. 

 

Well, he’d chuckled. Few a few seconds. But that was probably as close as one could get him to engage in boisterous laughter. He also smiled a lot in Lavellan’s presence. Dorian caught himself staring in bewilderment when the Commander’s face lit up.  His charmingly crooked smile was subtle, yet exquisite.

 

Lavellan had that effect on people, Dorian mused. Himself included. There was something about her that made him feel warm, at ease, and hopeful...like everything in the world was right as long as she was by his side. 

She was remarkable, that Asha’na Lavellan. 

Dorian decided to dine alone that evening, not particularly in the mood for anyone’s company apart from the Commander’s or the Inquisitor’s. There was no issue in regard to the other members of the Inquisition not being friendly or inviting, but Dorian was now in a mood. The warmth and light that Lavellan carried left with her and had left Dorian with a growing sense of anxiety and the slight throb of homesickness that ached his heart. 

 

He sat by the the fire at an empty table in the main hall of the fort and read as he ate a bland Ferelden stew and sipped a glass of sour wine of questionable quality. 

Dorian let his gaze drift casually around. He watched idly as people passed this way and that. He admired the stained glass windows that adorned the great walls of the fort but found the rest of the structure to be too arcadian for his taste. Skyhold was well-made and absolutely practical, but the aversion to aesthetics made him wonder. Function and artistic flair did not have to be mutually exclusive. 

 

Growing restless, Dorian abandoned his half-full glass of wine and wandered back outside to the courtyard. The ever-present mountain wind had picked up swaying lanterns and causing torches to flicker. Some people remained outside anyway, perhaps mountain folk who were accustomed to the biting breeze. Dorian pulled his cloak tightly around him and wandered aimlessly, deciding that he would take the time to examine the fort’s design when the weather was a bit more forgiving. Perhaps he’d spend the rest of the night in the secret underground library Lavellan showed him. He smiled to himself at the thought of the gesture. 

 

Dorian was about to turn and make his way back inside when he noticed that he stood before the entrance to the fort’s dungeon. He considered, then made his way to the heavy wooden door. It was unlocked. 

“Curious,” he murmured to himself. “Based on how this fort looks, I cannot imagine a dungeon any more depressing. Let’s have a look.” 

 

There was nothing remarkable about the descent. Stone walls, stone stairs, cold, damp. Typical. Lavellan said the cells were empty but there were sounds coming from down below...or were there?

 

Dorian paused, listened. Nothing. 

 

Something caught Dorian’s eye as he continued on. He crouched down to examine an irregularity in one of the stones. Easily camouflaged amongst the jagged edges of the stone, but unmistakably present, were etchings. “Aha! What have we here? A secret message? Part of the construction...or something that came later, I wonder? Hmmm…”  He drew a small amount of mana to create an orb of light that was lead by the palm of his hand. By its gentle illumination, Dorian was able to take a closer look at the symbols. They were fluid which meant they were most likely put there by the use of magic. There was no way a hammer and chisel could produce something like this, and Dorian’s enthusiasm for this discovery grew deeper. The intertwining lines punctuated by dots and dashes looked foreign - not like anything Elvhen he had encountered so far, and certainly not Dwarven. Perhaps Solas -- 

 

Dorian’s concentration was interrupted by an alarming groan that echoed throughout the tunnel. Dorian stood, startled, letting the orb dissolve into the darkness. This time, there was no mistaking that someone was down there. Perhaps Lavellan was misinformed and The Inquisition did hold a prisoner in their custody. Or, more likely, passion had overtaken some lovebirds and they were enjoying some private time together. 

Chuckling to himself, Dorian placed a few loose stones that were lying around to mark where the etchings were. He’d come back later. 

 

He began to make his ascent, and again the voice cried out...but this time clearly in anguish. Dorian rethought his latter theory as he stared down the hollow tunnel.  _ How grim. _ He thought. 

 

“Is everything all right down there?” The echoes of Dorian’s regal voice were met with silence. He deliberated briefly on whether to investigate for himself or to go find Cassandra and let her deal with it. He quickly gave in to his relentless tendencies of intrusiveness and hurried down to the base of the dungeon to take a quick peek. 

 

He met no one at the bottom of the stairs.  _ No guard? _ He observed. That meant no prisoners. The torches cast a path of light down the center of the room leaving the outside edges in darkness. The scent of mildew and a peculiar sweet-sour odor hung in the chilly air. Judging by the neat piles of rubble, the process of cleaning up was well underway. 

 

Blinking to adjust his eyes, Dorian could just make out a figure in the corner of the room. Dorian advanced slowly toward the figure where came sounds of faint gasps interspersed between drawn out groans of misery. A man stood, bent over a table that held a small taper candle in a brass holder. Two chairs lay toppled over on the floor, one of them broken with splinters scattered about. 

 

The man doubled over in pain and cried out again, bringing one hand to his head and clutching the other over his stomach. “No,” he grunted. “Ungh! Maker….please…” Dorian took a step closer. He recognized the voice. _ That isn’t...is it? Not likely. But… **kaffas**! _

 

Before Dorian could say a word, the man spun around, gasping, groaning, eyes tracking wildly around the room. The torch flames illuminated a face contorted with pain, glassy with sweat. He breathed heavily through clenched teeth. 

 

Dorian was standing before the Commander of the Inquisition.


	6. Flashback Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian finds Cullen in a worrisome state.

Flashback Part 3

 

Dorian’s heart hammered in his chest.  _ Kaffas _ . He was unable to conceal the disbelief in his voice. “Commander Cullen?” 

 

Cullen winced and blinked furiously, forcing his eyes to focus. “Dorian?”

  
  


It was no question that the Commander took pride in his appearance. His armor was always in impeccable form, his boots polished, not as much as a hair out of place. The solid, inspiring Commander who carried his fortitude with impressive refinement  could not possibly be the same person Dorian saw before him. Yet here he stood, disheveled; curls unruly, tunic unlaced and half untucked. It was a shocking contrast. He looked ill. Alarmingly ill. 

 

Self-conscious, Cullen looked away. “What are you doing here, Dorian?” 

 

“Commander!” Dorian said brightly, concealing his emotions for Cullen’s  benefit. “I barely recognized you outside of that fluffy armor of yours. Are you unwell? May I assist you to the surgeon? The healer, perhaps?” He took a cautioned step forward but came to a halt when the Commander waved him away. 

 

“No!” his shout echoed throughout the dungeon. He groaned, swallowed. “No,” he said again, this time in whisper. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

 

Dorian raised an eyebrow.  _ Of course he’d say that. _ “Commander, if I may be so forthright in displaying my ignorance, how exactly does this,” he gestured toward Cullen, “in a dungeon,” his arms spread, gesturing grandly to the dank underground chamber, “mean ‘ _I’m fine_ ’?” He shifted his weight to one leg and placed a hand to his chin. “Please explain.” 

 

“Leave me be,” Cullen growled. “I wish to be alone.”

 

Dorian looked at Cullen who stood breathing heavily, jaw clenched, standing over the broken chair. He recalled Varric and Cassandra’s earlier warnings about not disturbing the Commander. He took a step back and held up his hands apologetically. “Of course. Forgive me.” He paused, then quietly added, “I am terribly sorry for bothering you. Should you need anything, you have but to ask.”

 

Dorian was unsure if he’d heard him until, after a few deep breaths, Cullen nodded in understanding. He turned to say something but then flinched and let out a low groan.

 

A sinking feeling overcame Dorian’s heart. Fighting every impulse within him to rush to the Commander’s side, Dorian backed away and slowly left.  

  
  


***

Cullen lost all concept of time when he had his attacks. He didn’t know how long he had been in the dungeon. It felt like an eternity, but based on the activity that was still going on around Skyhold it had only been a couple of hours. Maybe less. Regardless of whether the attacks lasted hours or minutes, they were disorienting. 

Before he emerged from the dungeon he did a quick check of himself. He straightened his tunic and smoothed his hair back. He didn’t concern himself too much with the sweat that drenched his hairline. If anyone asked, he’d been inspecting the dungeon for updating and worked up a sweat by tidying up some. He took a deep breath, exited through the heavy wooden door, and made his way to his office without making eye contact with anyone. 

Cullen shut the door to his office and climbed up the ladder to his loft. He didn’t go over his list of tasks for the next day. He didn’t place the scattered books back in the shelves they belonged in. He ignored his armor that was placed haphazardly on the stand. He took off his boots, leaving them where they landed, and crawled onto his bed where he lay facedown. Sleep overcame him immediately.


	7. Flashback Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is feeling good for a change and Cassandra pops in for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I'm thinking about re-arranging everything and just restarting so that instead of these "flashbacks" the story can progress in order.
> 
> As usual, I do hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please, please, please feel free to critique and offer suggestions. For example, if there's a particular situation or scene you'd like me to write about, let me know!

For the first time in weeks, Cullen awoke to the absensense of pain. He felt well. He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and breathed in the cold morning air. He glanced up at the sky through the break in the ceiling. The sky was bright. His head did not ache. He thought of Dorian, then pushed the thought away.

 

After a quick morning prayer to the Maker, Cullen attended to tidying up his room. He inspected his armor for any imperfections and set it aside. He scowled at the scuffs on his boots and got to polishing them. He couldn’t recall when he’d been so careless with them.  _ In the dungeon, most likely,  _ he thought bitterly. Again, Dorian came to mind. He shook the thought away and focused on his boots for a good twenty minutes. 

Satisfied, he put the boots down and moved on to the washstand. It was nothing fancy - just a narrow, but sturdy, wooden stand with a plain white washbowl. He smoothed his hands over his face and decided he didn’t need a shave. He spent some time combing and arranging his hair, finishing off with the hair lotion he’d bought during his last visit to Val Royeaux. The decorative silver dish that held the lotion was nearly empty. Cullen would have to speak with the Orlesian merchant on base about getting him some more. 

 

Cullen peered into the small, wood-framed mirror that sat on his washstand. He stared at his reflection. The eyes that stared back did not look nearly as exhausted as they usually were. He had some color on his cheeks. He only took note of this because he'd gotten multiple comments from Leliana, Josephine, and even Lavellan about how pale he'd been the past few days. Darkness still was present underneath his eyes - a seemingly permanent feature that Cullen had learned to accept long ago. His eyes lowered to the scar on his lip. He stepped away from the mirror. 

 

Armor and boots on, and one more check to make sure his hair stayed in place, Cullen went down to his office. Eager Jameson entered the office as Cullen was arranging his books, received his orders, and was off. The Lieutenant came in shortly after, then the messengers began to buzz in and out. Though Cullen had gotten up much later than he was accustomed to, it was still early enough for anyone else to notice. Cullen quickly lost himself in his work and hadn’t realized it until Cassandra stopped by. 

 

She walked in with a confident sway. Cullen didn’t need to look up to know it was her. The Lady Seeker had a strong presence that could be sensed from miles away.  

 

“Commander.”

 

“Lady Seeker.”

 

“Are you well?”

 

Cullen sighed. Cassandra made a point to ask him this every day. Since Cullen decided to stop taking lyrium after Kirkwall, Cassandra had been keeping a close eye on him. He appreciate it greatly, but was growing tired being asked the same question every day. Sometimes more than once if, Maker forbid, he had a headache. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“You slept well?”   
  


He snorted. “Well enough.”

 

“And you’ve eaten?”

 

“Not yet. I have some things that need to get done first.”

 

She looked at him disapprovingly but said nothing. 

 

“I will soon,” he insisted. 

 

“How was yesterday?” she asked. 

 

Cullen frowned. His attention turned to stack and organize the mess of papers on his desk. “Yesterday was...not good.”

 

Cassandra nodded. She understood what he meant. “When will you listen to me?”

 

“Cassandra,” Cullen quickly became agitated. “You told me to take a break from my duties. And I did, did I not?”

 

Cassandra did not back down. Her fierce gaze met his. “That is not what I meant,” she said crossing her arms. “Cullen, you are making this harder than it needs to be. The withdrawal attacks would happen less frequently if you would keep your stress levels down.” 

 

“How am I to do that? By handing all my duties over to the Lieutenant so I can take an afternoon nap? Sit by the fire and read books all day? Take a vacation?!!” 

 

“Balance, Cullen. All you need to do is find a balance in your life. Right now...all you do is work. Nothing else. You life is work, work, work. When do you stop to do things you enjoy? When was the last time you went riding? Or....I don't even know what hobbies you have. Do you have any?”

Cullen stood from his desk to meet Cassandra’s face. Ignoring her questions he said, “I will make time for other things when we can afford it. As for right now, in case you haven’t noticed, we are at war.”

 

“How will the Commander of the Inquisition take care of his fort if he cannot take care of himself?”

 

Cullen’s glare hardened. “When I asked you to keep watch over me, it was to ensure that I don’t….that I wouldn’t….”  _ Lose control. _ Cullen’s throat closed up. “...that if I find myself no longer able to be a part of the Inquisition, you would recognize what was happening and respond accordingly without delay.  _ Not _ to….. _ coddle _ me.” 

 

Cassandra regarded Cullen for a moment then dropped her arms to her sides. “As part of the Inquisition, I will fulfill the promise that I made you, Commander. As your friend…” a rare smile crossed her face, “I cannot promise that I will not have any concerns for how you,  _ Cullen _ , are doing.”

Cullen watched as she left and he realized that although he was irritated, he was also grateful. Cassandra was his friend. He knew that he would do the same for her were she in his position. It abruptly occurred to Cullen that he should let the Inquisitor know of his situation. She had a right to know. Dorian did as well. Cullen reached back and rubbed the knot that began to form on the back of his neck. His stomach growled. "I'll tell her this afternoon," he muttered to himself. He briefly considered sending someone to fetch his meal for him, but then decided he felt too good to sit put and went down to the tavern. 


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woosh! Flashback's over. We're back to the present day. I still haven't decided how I feel about the flashback. I may re-arrange chapters for the sake of flow and continuity. Buuuuuut, until then, here's a quick chapter! More to come this weekend :D

Somehow Leliana ha managed to pry Anais away from the Templars that had been watching over her.

Cullen looked at the report in disbelief. He lowered the page and met Leliana’s eyes. 

“Dead?” he asked. 

“Afraid so.” she replied.

“And the other templar?”

“Suffering,” she said simply. She didn’t need to explain how. Cullen knew it was lyrium-related suffering. 

“I see.” He looked the report over again. “So...the girl?”

“She is here.”

Cullen froze. He let the page drop to Leliana’s cluttered desk. “What?”

Leliana remained still, arms clasped behind her back. A raven stood on her shoulder, preening its feathers and letting out the occasional “caw” to its companions in the rookery. 

“Anais. She is here.”

Cullen shook his head in disbelief. “When…..How…..You….” 

Leliana waited patiently as Cullen debated with himself on which question to ask first. She noticed his fists were clenched. No surprise. She’d expected the news to agitate him. 

“Leliana, are you sure you have the right person?”

“Commander! I’m going to pretend you did not ask me that.” Leliana fed her raven a small piece of bread. 

“How did you….so quickly..?”

“You of all people should know not to underestimate my agents.” Pride radiated from the spymaster. 

“When did she arrive?”

“This morning.” The grin on Leliana’s face faded. “She came willingly, but you should know that things are a bit more complicated that we had already anticipated.” 

“No surprise there,” Cullen muttered. “Why is that?”  
Leliana gently coaxed the raven off her shoulder and onto a perch. She offered it another piece of bread and turned to the stairs. “Come, we should speak with her.”

“What?! No.”

Secretive as she was, Leliana wore curiosity plainly on her face. “No?”

“I mean….what I mean is, it would be better if I didn’t make my presence known.”

Leliana nodded in understanding. “Of course, Commander. I have Solas and Cassandra waiting for us to speak with her. I was going to suggest that you change your armor, put on a helmet and listen in on the conversation.”

Hiding behind a helmet. Cullen thought the idea ridiculous but agreed. He didn't want to risk jeopardizing the unlikely chance that Leliana would get what she wanted out of Anais. He followed Leliana down the tower stairs as he said a silent prayer for the Templars that had Anais under their care.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, and Solas meet Anais Dravyyn.  
> Things are a bit more complicated than they had anticipated.

Cullen and Leliana were greeted by Cassandra and Solas in the run-down gazebo that stood - surprisingly strong - in the atrium where the Inquisitor had plans for a garden. The cracked and crumbled stones and random debris that had been scattered about the yard had been cleaned up. Ivy no longer covered every surface of ground and wall. Small patches of grass reached out from between the still-present creeping thistle, but significant progress had been made. If by some chance the Inquisitor changed her mind about having a garden, Cullen thought he’d ask about using the atrium as an extension of the small room that held the statue of Andraste. The idea almost distracted him from the growing dread that had formed in his stomach. 

“Leliana explained the situation, Commander. Is there anything we should know before going in to speak with the mage?” Cassandra asked as Cullen adjusted the plain silverite armor he rarely ever wore. 

“Anais Dravyyn was brought to Kirkwall by her aunt when she was….young. I cannot remember exactly how old she was. Ten, maybe? Her aunt said the girl’s mother was Dalish and her father was from the Imperium, hence the surname. She didn’t give us much more information apart from that. Just that Miss Dravyyn’s parents were gone and Anais had started showing strange signs.”

“Signs of magic.” Solas stated.

“Not….exactly,” Cullen said slowly. “She reported that Anais had been behaving strangely. Speaking to no one, and not in the way that children do so in play. Staring off and being unresponsive for hours. She didn’t elaborate much on that, only warned us that she thought the child possessed. She was in a hurry to leave, which is….typical. When we assessed Miss Dravyyn she showed no signs of possession and did not demonstrate any spells, but we Templars could sense the mana within her.”

“Was she defiant?” Solas asked.

“No, not at all! In fact, she made great efforts to cast spells but simply couldn’t.”

“Which normally happens with young children,” Cassandra said.

“It is common,” Cullen agreed. “We did what we could to see if emotional responses could cause the uncontrolled release of spells. That almost always provides results, but nothing happened. We did, however, see first hand how oddly Anais behaved. Honestly, we thought she was unwell. She told us that she spoke to a ghost who followed her around. Then she’d go for days without speaking at all. We didn’t really know what to make of her. She was under constant watch for months. There were no incidents except for a couple of accidental freezings. And then... ” 

“And then when she entered the Fade.” Leliana’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Cullen frowned. 

“Yes. Please remember that there is a chance that --”

“That it will not work. Yes, I know." Leliana gave Cullen a look. “Please, Commander. I am not a child! I understand.”

“I just want to avoid disappointment,” Cullen muttered.

Leliana’s expression hardened. “I will be less disappointed after making every effort I can to help Alistair. So let us not leave Anais waiting any longer. Even though Anais is Tranquil, there is a chance she can be of some help.”

Solas and Cullen stared at Leliana. Solas’s expression was equal parts shock and disapproval while Cullen looked remorseful yet not at all surprised. Cassandra, looking nothing but impatient, must have already known.

“Yes,” Leliana said softly. “Remember I said that there was an added complication? Anais was made Tranquil. After the uprising in Kirkwall. She won’t tell us where or by whom.”

 

Cullen frowned. “That’s...odd.” 

Solas scowled and shook his head, but his voice was gentle. “A shame. If she truly had the ability to physically enter the fade, her...current condition will not be beneficial.”

 

“We aren’t entirely sure if Anais Dravyyn ever had the ability,” Leliana chimed in. “We know that she entered the fade and came back moments later, but we don’t know if she is the one who accessed the fade. She could have been thrown in by someone else. That is what you reported, Cullen, isn’t it?”

“I regret that we hadn’t taken the time to investigate further…..” Cullen trailed off. “There were….well, there was…..” he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Kirkwall was a mess.”

Silence overcame the group. After a minute Solas broke it and said quietly, “Shall we, then?”

 

“Yes, come.” Cassandra lead everyone across the atrium to a door. She knocked twice. “One way or another, we will get the information we need.”

Cullen wasn't sure if he should take that as an ominous statement or not. He put on his helmet which completely covered his face. He looked out through a slim, horizontal slit, similar to the Templar helm he’d always hated wearing. The door opened and one by one Cullen and his companions entered through. The door had been kept under watch from the inside by two Templars Cullen recognized as recently joining the Inquisition. They obeyed Cassandra’s command to exit and Cullen shut the door behind them. The knot in his stomach tightened and his heartbeat seemed to echo within his helmet. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and stood by the door. 

The chamber they stood in was large and, to Cullen’s surprise, nicely decorated. Josephine was most certainly responsible for the glass lamps, Antivan rugs, and handsome mahogany chairs. Apart from that, and the young woman who sat in one of the chairs, the room was empty. 

Cullen blinked furiously through the sweat that dripped down his forehead and stung his eyes. Once his vision cleared, he forced himself to look at Anais Dravyyn. It was indeed her. She hadn’t changed much apart from being a bit taller, hair longer, and of course bearing the sunburst brand of the Tranquil. Cullen stared as he realized that Anais was still very young, barely at the age where children start to enter their adolescent years. The knot in his stomach began to radiate. Guilt throbbed from within his chest. 

Anais turned her attention from a book to the members of the Inquisition who stood before her. Her empty eyes regarded each individual as they introduced themselves, except for Leliana who had been the first to greet the girl upon her arrival. 

Cullen, forgetting that his face was concealed, held his breath as Anais’s gaze made its way to him. True to Tranquility, Anais showed no interest. No curiosity. She didn’t respond to Leliana’s friendly small-talk other than to offer a polite response she knew was expected. She showed no discomfort to Cassandra’s intimidating presence. Her eyes didn’t search for solidarity from Solas, a mage she once had something in common with. Anais was simply present. 

“I understand the Inquisition needs my help,” Anais said as she stiffly sat down in one of the chairs. Cassandra, Solas, and Leliana each took a chair and sat across from her. 

Leliana’s smile faded, Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, and Solas leaned forward in anticipation as Anais said, “I will not help you.”


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV of Anais.
> 
> Leliana, Cassandra and Solas introduce themselves to the Tranquil mage who may be able to help them find a way into the Fade.

“I will not help you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the elf who introduced himself as Solas asked for clarification. 

“I have no wish to be a part of the Inquisition.”

Solas nodded in understanding. “I see. You should know, Anais, that you have no obligations to become a part of the Inquisition. We are simply seeking information and perhaps assistance in a single endeavor.”

Interesting. “Information about what?”

The elf looked to the taller of the two women. Her hair was dark and short, her eyes were fixed in fierce glare that I was certain people found intimidating. Cassandra was her name. When she spoke, a strong Nevarran accent formed her words. “We’ll get to that. First, how long has it been since you underwent the Rite of Tranquility?” 

Why was this question important to her? “Since 9:40 Dragon.”

The guard at the door shifted slightly. Judging by height and build, the guard was a human male. He seemed uncomfortable. Logical, seeing as how armor was not built for luxury.

 

“Surely you’d heard of the Rebellion in Kirkwall? You left Kirkwall mere days before the uprising, didn’t you?” Cassandra sounded sad. Or...disappointed? Sometimes the two sounded similar. 

“Yes,” I said. 

Based on how everyone looked at me, I guessed they were waiting for me to elaborate. But I was not sure what they were waiting for, so I said nothing. 

“You say that you were made Tranquil after the Circles had already fallen. Three years after the Kirkwall Rebellion, one year before the Inquisition formed. How is that possible?” The red-haired woman named Leliana seemed puzzled. When she said, “Tranquil” there was no undertone of mockery or disgust in her voice. I detected pity. I looked down and noted that she had an interest in fashionable boots. Her accent was Orlesian, but she did not appear as such.

“That is a question I cannot answer.” 

“Because you do not know?” Solas inquired.

“Because secrets are meant to be kept.”

The three kept their eyes on me. I shifted my gaze back and forth between them three times before Cassandra spoke again. She gave me a brief explanation of what happened in Kirkwall and how the Inquisition came to be. She told me that the Inquisitor, the one I’d heard many call “The Herald of Andraste” would be eager to meet me once she returned from her travels. I listened. I agreed to meet with the Inquisitor. 

“What would you like to be doing right now?” She then asked. 

If I’d still experienced emotions, I would have been touched by her question. No one asked any Tranquil individuals questions like that. No one cared. People had many assumptions about Tranquility. They often associated a lack of emotion with a lack of presence. The inability to experience fear or love or annoyance with the inability to have a preference. What did Cassandra know, I wondered. Was she an ex-Templar? Perhaps.

“I am not sure at the moment. I am fine with what we are doing now.”

Leliana smiled. It almost looked natural. The smile did not reach her eyes. “What you were doing when our agents found you and brought you here?”

“Gardening.”

“Would you like to return to where you were?”

Was this a set up for a threat? Or were they going to go out of their way to make a show of generosity and kindness in order to get whatever it is they wanted from me? Threats would not have an effect on me, though I would certainly prefer not to endure torture or death for my defiance. Either way, it mattered not. 

“I felt safe where I was. I had many tasks that kept me busy.” I answered.

Leliana and Cassandra were not as troubled by my presence as Solas was. I could tell by their body language. Leliana looked at me sadly. She must be a mage supporter. Bothered by the concept of Tranquility. Cassandra looked as disinterested and unfazed as though she were looking upon a common weed. The two sat up straight, arms at their sides, open. Leliana leaned forward slightly, like she wanted to grasp at every bit of information first before anyone else. 

Solas, though he kept his eyes kind and tone polite, held his arms crossed in front of him, clutching tightly to and leaning slightly on his staff. He was a mage, so I understood his discomfort. Mages reacted to their fears in interesting ways. Some through avoidance, others through hostility. During our conversation, Solas’s eyes would slide away from my gaze. Did my presence cause him pain? Mere discomfort?

“We do not wish to keep you away from your life,” Cassandra interrupted my silent analysis of Solas. “If you are able to assist us, we would be grateful. If not, then we will escort you back to your home.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Leliana’s face. Had I not been staring at her I would have missed it. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. 

“Thank you,” I said. “I will meet with the Inquisitor, as I cannot find a reason not to. But then after that I would like to go home.”

The guard at the door had remained still and quiet the entire time. His chest lifted slowly, and I could heard him exhale even though he tried very hard to be silent. 

Cassandra and Leliana excused themselves. Solas offered to show me around -- we were in a fort called Skyhold. He promised that I would find interesting things to occupy my time with until it was time to leave. I found no logical reason to decline his invitation, so I followed him.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV of Anais.
> 
> Solas gives Anais the grand tour of Skyhold and discovers a small piece of information about her Rite of Tranquility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *just* realized, hours after writing this and the last chapter, that Anais's POV is written in first person while the rest of the story has been written in 3rd person point-of-view. 
> 
> It didn't occur to me at all as I was writing. Maybe Anais keeps a journal. 
> 
> Anyway! As always, enjoy! 
> 
> Feel free to share -- tell me what you like, what you don't like, and anything in particular you'd like to see. Thanks! :D

The fortress claimed by the Inquisition - Skyhold, they called it -- was impressive. It was of ancient build and needed a great deal of repairs and updates which, evidently were well underway. 

Solas spoke almost non-stop as we leisurely made our way around Skyhold. When he spoke of each area of the fort -- the library, the training yard, tavern, the healing clinic -- his voice was so steady that he almost sounded Tranquil himself. However, when I asked what his focus in magic was in, spoke excitedly about the Fade. He even smiled as he told me about his visits to the fade in his dreams. The smile faded, however, when I told him I did not miss dreaming. 

For never having undergone any formal education, Solas was a holder of much information. I could tell he had never been a part of the Circle. I, myself, hadn’t been a part of the Circle for very long, but there were subtle differences between apostates and Circle mages. Apostates, though secretive, were more open about their magic while Circle mages - despite having pride in their talents -- were almost apologetic of their connection to the Fade. That was only scratching the surface. Though I found interest in patterns I found in the differences and common aspects people held, I felt no need to analyze this in depth. 

Solas introduced me to Dagna, a dwarven expert in all things magic. Unusual and interesting. I had never met a dwarf who wasn’t a lyrium smuggler or merchant. 

With her was another Tranquil named Clemence. I decided he was interesting, as well. If not for his brand, I would not have guessed that he was Tranquil. When he spoke he used inflections in his speech. Why? I wondered. To put others at ease by sounding more….’normal’? Our exchange was brief and, judging by the way people looked at us, possibly awkward. 

Dagna invited me to visit her workshop later, and Clemence stated that he would be there as well. Alchemy was his preferred activity and Dagna had been generous enough to share some of her space. 

“I may or may not,” I said noncommittally, unsure of how long my stay would be. Dagna giggled and Clemence turned away without making a closing statement. That could have easily been mistaken as a gesture of taking offense, or perceived as rude, but Tranquil individuals typically keep conversations efficient. No need to open a conversation by first exchanging pleasantries or make an effort to ensure that a conversation is politely brought to closure, temporarily or otherwise. 

 

Solas then lead me to the battlements and his information-sharing was interrupted by a sudden question.

“Anais, I know that you said you’d prefer not to be a part of the Inquisition. However, if I told you that you are here to stay, what would you do?”

“I would find something productive to do.”

“That’s it? You wouldn’t leave? You wouldn’t remind us that you had no desire to be here?”

“I have no desire for anything,” I reminded him. “Leaving would be difficult. It was a long walk from my home to Skyhold. It is cold. I do not have money on me to purchase supplies. Plus, I feel that I could learn interesting skills in Dagna’s workshop. Though I would ask that if I stayed, I was not a part of anything. I do have free will, after all.”

“Oh,” his slim eyebrows arched in surprise. “If we turned you away…?”

“Then I would leave.”

“But you just said leaving would be difficult.”

“Yes. And it would not be ideal to travel on my own. But it would be possible.”

Solas frowned. “You are very young, Anais.”

“Yes.”

“It is my understanding that those who invoke the Rite of Tranquility, barbaric as it is, hold some standards. Such as not allowing anyone under a certain age to undergo the Rite.”

“That is correct, Solas. In the Circle, it was unheard of.”

“But it wasn’t the Circle that did this to you. There was no Circle when you became Tranquil.”

“That is also correct.”

“Did you agree to it? Willingly?” I could tell from his expression what he wanted the answer to be. 

“Yes, Solas. I did. In fact, I went through great lengths to ensure that I was made Tranquil.”

His eyes narrowed. He shook his head. “But….why?” he whispered in disbelief. 

“I do not wish to answer your question.”

He was about to say something when shouts coming from the tavern interrupted him. We peered over the wall of the battlements to see a woman running out of the tavern, followed by someone who wore a very large, floppy hat. “Wait, forget!” the voice beneath the hat called out to her. 

Solas looked alarmed. “I apologise, Anais. Please wait here. I will return shortly.”

Staff in hand, Solas rushed down the stairs to catch up with the individuals who were shouting in the middle of the main courtyard. 

I stood and waited.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anais & Cole meet, and she hears him speak a familiar name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but there's more to come soon!
> 
> As always, all feedback and constructive criticism is welcome :)

I did not wait long. Solas returned with a boy a head taller than me and perhaps a few years older. It was hard to tell - he looked ill and his face remained mostly hidden beneath his broad hat. Just as they were approaching Solas made a subtle gesture with his free hand while the other gently lead the young man forward. The gesture was to dismiss a spell. Very subtle. I guessed that glyphs had been cast, for I saw no other evidence of a spell. Why? To protect me? To keep me from wandering?

“Cole, I would like you to meet Anais. She is visiting Skyhold for a short while.” 

I said hello and mentioned that Solas was showing me around and that he was a very knowledgeable guide that that I was learning interesting information about Skyhold. People like it when you summarize what is happening. It opens the opportunity for conversation which makes some people comfortable.

Solas looked at Cole expectantly and waited. 

Cole did not respond. In fact, I was not sure if he had heard anything I or Solas had said. He appeared distressed. Distracted. Like he was straining to hear music in the distance. He looked to the left, up, down, back to the left, eyes never focusing on anything in particular. “Templar pain, distant yet sharp. Cullen is hurt,” he finally said. “I need to help him.” 

Templar? Cullen?

Solas’s expression remained still but his eyes darted quickly to me, then back to Cole. 

Cole brushed the hair of his eyes, bit his nail, twitched a bit more, then suddenly became still. He slowly lifted his head to peer at me from underneath the brim of his hat. His voice was wispy and wavered like it was in danger of being carried off should a breeze flow by. “Cold, empty, hollow. Dreamless, painless, forgotten...nothing to feel, I cannot feel. A void without an echo. Ripped, torn, cut in half. Half gone, half a person. Forgotten. A forgotten person. A forgotten mage.” Cole shivered, then looked to Solas. “It feels wrong. And he hurts...”

“Ah….Cole,” Solas began, but Cole rushed off with such haste I expected his hat to fly off.

 

I stared at Solas.

Solas stared at me.


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition briefly discuss how to proceed with the Tranquil, Anais.  
> Cole responds to Cullen's inner conflicts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly getting there :D

Cullen tore off his helmet and threw it across the room. It echoed loudly as it crashed against the stone wall, then again onto the floor. He leaned against war table to steady himself. Tremorous breaths escaped through his clenched teeth and Cullen feared his entire body would soon begin to tremble. Sweat dripped from the corkscrew locks of hair. 

 

A swarm of thoughts, intrusive and relentless, attacked him like stinging wasps:

 

_ You should have told them everything from the start. _

 

_ You shouldn’t be here. _

 

_ You do not deserve this position. _

 

_ You don’t deserve to be forgiven for the things you had said and the beliefs you had formed while in Greenfell. _

 

_ You don’t deserve to be forgiven for the things you had said and done in Kirkwall. Especially not for that.  _

 

He did not deserve the companions he had, he told himself. Perhaps they would be angry with him, rightfully so, and that could make leaving the Inquisition a little bit easier. Perhaps.

 

He thought of the Inquisitor, Asha’na. There was nothing in particular to the thought, just a constant presence in his mind. It slowed the frantic pounding in his chest. Reminded him to breathe. 

 

…

…

 

Breathe. 

 

He waited, took several steady breaths, counted, waited. 

 

...

 

Waited.

 

He was fine. 

 

…

 

Waited. Unsure.

 

Yes, he  _ was  _ fine. 

 

His breathing had steadied. He still felt the knot in is stomach like a stone, but it no longer spread to his chest. Guilt still overcame him. But he remembered that Asha’na was back, and that thought was a small comfort. No, more than a small comfort. He was genuinely eager to see her. It had only been a few days, but Cullen found himself thinking of Asha’na often. 

 

Asha’na had just arrived from a mission, along with Sera, Vivienne and The Iron Bull. Which….which mission was it..? Cullen struggled to remember. There was so much anxiety and internal shouting and a sudden throbbing in his head that he could not think straight. He stood up straight, covered his eyes with his hands, and focused. 

 

_ Now is not the time for this, _ he scolded himself. 

 

Cullen dropped his hands and felt his heart lurch in his chest when the door swung open. Oh. It wasn’t her. It was Dorian.

 

Dorian, who let himself in and swaggered across the room as though he were the Inquisitor and this was his war table. “She isn’t here yet?” he asked, looking around excitedly. “I heard she returned. Oh, I’ve missed that Lavellan.”

 

“It’s only been a few days,” Cullen said dully. 

 

“And that’s a few days too many!” Dorian said with a huff. He tilted his head to the side as he examined Cullen. “So your hair  _ is  _ naturally curly, isn’t it? Huh. You must go through a lot of hair product. What? Don’t look at me like that. Cute either way, if you ask me.”

 

Cullen did not respond. 

 

“Nothing? You usually blush when such comments are made in your direction. You’re looking rather pale, in fact.” Dorian walked across the room, eyes fixed on Cullen, to pick up the helmet off the stone floor. It had a large dent in it. “You dropped this.” Dorian feigned disinterest as he casually held it out. Cullen reluctantly took the damaged helmet and placed it on the table.   

“Dorian,” Cullen started. 

 

“Yes, Commander?”

 

Dorian waited patiently for Cullen to continue. 

 

Finally, “She’s here.”

 

“Lavellan? Yes, she  _ is _ here.” Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Did I not just say that? She told the messenger she’d wash up and be right over.” 

 

“No,” Cullen spoke quietly. “The girl. From Kirkwall. Anais Dravyyn.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Cullen stood hunched over the war table and just nodded. 

 

“Oh, dear.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you --”

 

Dorian stopped to turn toward the voices that approached. The door opened and in came  Asha’na with Leliana and Cassandra right behind her. 

  
  


Dorian left Cullen’s side to greet Asha’na with a strong hug and kiss on her forehead. 

“I just stopped by to say hello,” he bowed regally to Cassandra and Leliana. Cassandra rolled her eyes, Leliana only smirked. “You’re about to start your meeting, yes? I shall take my leave.”

 

“You should stay,” Cullen said to everyone’s surprise. “I need to speak with all of you, and you’re all here.”

 

Curious glances were exchanged over the war table as everyone spread out, except for Dorian who stood close to Asha’na. 

 

“Inquisitor. Have Leliana and Cassandra caught you up on the situation with Miss Dravyyn?”

 

“Yes, Commander.”

 

Leliana took a step forward. “We were just discussing on how to proceed. I feel terrible about taking advantage of the fact that she is Tranquil, but would giving her no choice on the matter be so cruel? I do not feel right about that. Normally a young girl such as herself would easily give in to a generous offer.” She bit her lip thoughtfully, brows furrowed. “But...oh,” she sighed, “it’s so difficult to entice someone who doesn’t experience emotions.”

 

“I would like to meet her before we decide anything,” Asha’na said. “We’re running out of time.”

 

“I will go with you, Inquisitor. I should speak with her as well.” Cullen insisted. Asha’na nodded in agreement.

 

Cassandra gave Cullen a questioning look. “Commander? Do you -- oh, for sake of the Maker, Cole! What have I told you about doing that!?” Cassandra was interrupted by Cole’s sudden, ghost-like entrance. Cullen, unfortunately, was growing accustomed to Cole’s surprise visits. The boy was drawn to him, much to Cullen’s chagrin, and would alternate between  _ poofing _ into view like a spectre and barging into an area at full speed. Often knocking down chairs in his path, tripping on piles of books stacked about. Cole lacked as much grace as he did tact, except for in combat….oddly enough. 

 

This time Cole had materialized on top of the war table, scattering papers and markers about. He jumped down and stood before Cullen, out of breath, his chest heaving as though he’d been running. He paid no attention to Cassandra’s scolding. 

 

Exasperated, Cassandra turned her scowl to Asha’na. “Inquisitor. Cole knows he is not allowed in here.”

 

Asha’na  rushed around the table to place a protective hand on Cole’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Cassandra. Cole, what’s wrong?” Her brows knit together in concern. 

 

Cole’s voice broke when he cried out, “Stop hurting yourself, Cullen!”

 

“Not this again,” Cullen sighed and calmly stepped past Cole. Cole immediately spun around to follow him, rushing to keep up with the Commander’s long strides. 

 

“You’re hurt. They hurt you. That was enough. Now  _ you’re  _ hurting you and --”

 

“That’s enough, Cole.”

 

“But I can help. Help you see that you’re not--”

 

“Not. Now.” Cullen made his way to the opposite side of the room, Cole at his heels, and pulled the heavy door open. Cullen’s eyes were hard but his voice, though tinged with irritation, was gentle. “We are in the middle of a meeting. I will speak with you later.”

 

“Screams banging against stone walls, heart twisting, tearing --”

 

Cullen threw Asha’na a pleading look. “Inquisitor, please?”

 

Holding the door open as Asha’na lead Cole out of the room, Cullen tried to ignore how everyone was casually averting their eyes to anywhere else but him. Except for Dorian, of course, who stared at him without reservation and with an unreadable expression. Everyone experienced Cole’s embarrassingly revealing outbursts from time to time. He had actually gotten better about it. Or so Cullen thought. 

 

Everyone stood in silence listening to the muffled voices of Asha’na and Josephine. Moments later, Asha’na returned by herself, grinning sheepishly. 

 

“I promised Josephine I’d attend her next tea party if she agreed to distract Cole for at least an hour.”

 

That got a chuckle out of everyone. 

 

“I….may have promised that you would all join me as well.” 

 

Cullen groaned. Cassandra and Leliana glared at Asha’na like she had utterly betrayed them. 

 

“Oh, splendid! I was invited, too? I’ll see you all there.” Dorian looked genuinely pleased. 

 

“Can we please continue? I have a million other things to do today.” Cullen shut the door and crossed his arms. His heart was still pounding and he was beginning to suspect that he’d have to take another day off soon. 

 

“So, where is Anais now?” Asha’na asked. 

 

“With Solas,” Cassandra said. “He seemed troubled by her presence but agreed to show her around and try to see if she would open up at all.”

 

“It’s such a shame she was made Tranquil,” Asha’na said sadly. “She probably can’t help us then.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We’ll find out what we need.” Cassandra sounded confident. She looked to Dorian. “Is the Rite of Tranquility practiced in the Imperium?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. Not used nearly as often as it is here in the south, but...yes.”

 

“And is it reversible?” Cassandra asked. 

 

Dorian laughed. “Well if that were the case that wouldn’t teach anyone a lesson, now would it?” He leaned in and whispered dramatically, loud enough for all to hear, “Wondering if we’ve got some secret blood magic to bring people back from being lobotomized, Seeker? We don’t.” 

 

Cassandra and Leliana nodded in unison, then turned their attention to the mess that Cole had lefts on the war table. 

 

“So Anais refuses to help, but we don’t know why.” Asha’na was thoughtful for a moment. Then she shrugged and looked to Cullen. “Shall we go find out?”

 

Cullen nodded. 

 

“What is it you you wanted to tell us, Commander?” Cassandra asked, briefly glancing up from the table. 

 

Oh. Right. 

“Nothing,” he insisted. “Well, no...not nothing. But...later. It can wait until later. Inquisitor? Your orders?”

Asha’na quickly assigned tasks, and beckoned for Dorian to follow her and Cullen out of the war room. As they were exiting Josephine’s office, they met face-to-face with Solas who had his hand up to knock.

 

“Inquisitor. Commander. Perfect timing.” Solas’s voice was steady but there was a look of urgency in his eyes. 

 

“ _Solas? Where is she?_ ” Cullen whispered. 

 

“She’s fine, she’s in the undercroft with Dagna and the other Tranquil.”

 

“Were you able to find out much?” Asha’na asked hopefully. 

 

“A...bit. I suspect a few things based on what she told me but I have no confirmation yet. There is _one_ thing I know for sure, though. Ah, Commander?”

 

“Yes, what is it?”

 

“She knows you’re here.”


End file.
